Sir _Fran._ B'ye, by'e, Dear'e. Ah, Mischief, how you look now! B'ye, b'ye.

(_Exit._

_Miran._ _Scentwell_, see him in the Coach, and bring me word.

_Scentw._ Yes, Madam.

_Miran._ So, Sir, you have done your Friend a signal piece of Service, I suppose.

_Marpl._ Why look you, Madam! if I have committed a fault, thank your self; no Man is more Serviceable when I am let into a Secret, nor none more Unlucky at finding it out. Who cou'd divine your Meaning, when you talk'd of a Blunderbuss, who thought of a Rendevous? and when you talk'd of a Monkey, who the Devil dreamt of Sir _George?_

_Miran._ A sign you converse but little with our s.e.x, when you can't reconcile Contradictions.

_Enter _Scentwell_._

_Scentw._ He's gone, Madam, as fast as the Coach, and Six can carry him.

_Enter Sir _George_._

Sir _Geo._ Then I may appear.

_Marpl._ Dear, Sir _George_, make my Peace! On my Soul, I did not think of you.

Sir _Geo._ I dare swear thou didst not. Madam, I beg you to forgive him.

_Miran._ Well, Sir _George_, if he can be secret.

_Marpl._ Ods heart, Madam, I'm as secret as a Priest when I'm trusted.

Sir _Geo._ Why 'tis with a Priest our Business is at present.

_Scentw._ Madam, here's Mrs. _Isabinda_'s Woman to wait on you.

_Miran._ Bring her up.

_Enter _Patch_._

How do'e, Mrs. _Patch_, what News from your Lady?

_Patch._ That's for your private Ear, Madam. Sir _George_, there's a Friend of yours has an urgent Occasion for your a.s.sistance.

Sir _Geo._ His Name.

_Patch._ _Charles._

_Marpl._ Ha! then there is something a-foot that I know nothing of. I'll wait on you, Sir _George_.

Sir _Geo._ A third Person may not be proper perhaps; as soon as I have dispatch'd my own Affairs, I am at his Service. I'll send my Servant to tell him, I'll wait upon him in half an Hour.

_Miran._ How come you employ'd in this Message, Mrs. _Patch?_

_Patch._ Want of Business, Madam. I am discharg'd by my Master, but hope to serve my Lady still.

_Miran._ How discharg'd! you must tell me the whole Story within.

_Patch._ With all my Heart, Madam.

_Marpl._ Pish! Pox, I wish I were fairly out of the House. I find Marriage is the end of this Secret: And now I am half mad to know what _Charles_ wants him for.

(_Aside._

Sir _Geo._ Madam, I'm doubly press'd, by Love and Friendship: This Exigence admits of no delay. Shall we make _Marplot_ of the Party?

_Miran._ If you'll run the Hazard, Sir _George_; I believe he means well.

_Marpl._ Nay, nay, for my part, I desire to be let into nothing: I'll begon, therefore pray don't mistrust me.

(_Going._

Sir _Geo._ So now has he a mind to be gone to _Charles_: but not knowing what Affairs he may have upon his Hands at present, I'm resolv'd he sha'n't stir: No, Mr. _Marplot_, you must not leave us, we want a third Person.

(_Takes hold of him._

_Marpl._ I never had more mind to be gone in my Life.

_Miran._ Come along then; if we fail in the Voyage, thank your self for taking this ill starr'd Gentleman on Board.

_Sir_ Geo.

_That Vessel ne'er can Unsuccessful prove,_ _Whose Freight is Beauty, and whose Pilot Love._

The End of the Fourth ACT.

ACT the Fifth.

_Enter _Miranda_, _Patch_, and _Scentwell_._

_Miran._ Well, _Patch_, I have done a strange bold thing! my Fate is determin'd, and Expectation is no more. Now to avoid the Impertinence and Roguery of an old Man, I have thrown my self into the Extravagance of a young one; if he shou'd despise, slight or use me ill, there's no Remedy from a Husband, but the Grave; and that's a terrible Sanctuary to one of my Age and Const.i.tution.

_Patch._ O fear not, Madam, you'll find your account in Sir _George Airy_; it is impossible a Man of Sense shou'd use a Woman ill, indued with Beauty, Wit and Fortune. It must be the Lady's fault, if she does not wear the unfashionable Name of Wife easie, when nothing but Complaisance and good Humour is requisite on either side to make them happy.

_Miran._ I long till I am out of this House, lest any Accident shou'd bring my _Guardian_ back. _Scentwell_, put my best Jewels into the little Casket, slip them, into thy Pocket, and let us march off to Sir.

_Jealous_'s.

_Scentw._ It shall be done, Madam.

(_Exit_ Scentwell.

_Patch._ Sir _George_ will be impatient, Madam; if their Plot succeeds, we shall be well receiv'd; if not, he will be able to protect us.

Besides, I long to know how my young Lady fares.